


You believe like I believe

by KelpietheThundergod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 6x20, Angst, Episode Related, M/M, The Man Who Would Be King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpietheThundergod/pseuds/KelpietheThundergod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is right where he left him – a few hours, a few million human heartbeats ago – the room still without light, the flawed angel-banning sigils still on the dirty windows. Except he's not sleeping but sitting, one arm propped up on his knees, supporting his head while the other hand fiddles with the rim of a half empty bottle that's filled with something smelling vaguely like fire and motor oil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You believe like I believe

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Lyrics taken from “Miracles” by Jefferson Starship (I only re-arranged them a little)

Warnings: None

A/N: Takes place during 6x20, in the night Castiel visits Dean with the intention to make him understand his reasons for working with Crowley.

Also, Dean probably wouldn't forgive me for this. And not just because of the song choice.

A/N: Beta read by Leah Child. All remaining mistakes are my own.

 

_If only you believe like I believe, baby_

_We'd get by_

 

It would be logical to stay away, but he doesn't.

He knows – this will make everything even worse, will drive the ache he feels somewhere inside even _deeper,_ turn it even _darker_.

He could do so many other things – could _force_ so many other things into existence, into destruction. And yet here he is, feeling powerless and desperate in his search for more strength.

Here he is, pleading for a human to trust in him.

 

Dean is right where he left him – a few hours, a few million human heartbeats ago – the room still without light, the flawed angel-banning sigils still on the dirty windows. Except he's not sleeping but sitting, one arm propped up on his knees, supporting his head while the other hand fiddles with the rim of a half empty bottle that's filled with something smelling vaguely like fire and motor oil.

Half hidden in the shadows, the angel doesn't move – it'd feel pathetic, this secrecy, except he knows Dean knows he's there. The only outwards sign the human gives of that, though, is closing his eyes and curling the hand his head rests against into a fist.

 

For long, painful moments, neither of them speaks. And even if they did, what would be the point?

Then comes, finally, “I have nothing else to say, Cas. And you don't either. So what's the point?”

Dean's voice sounds raw and somehow crushed. And for some reason, it loosens the angel's tongue. Makes him want to rush it all out, lay it all bare, make it all somehow _visible_ to Dean. Make his intentions _pure_ again.

“I -”

 

But before the first words come out, he realizes all of this. For a moment, it makes him stop. He looks briefly at Dean – Dean, who is hunched over and tense, – and then away again, and it's then that he makes his decision.

“I had thought you had rediscovered your faith, Dean.”

 

Dean only scoffs at that, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah, my faith _in not giving in_. In not taking the easy way out and hoping some power beyond me might take care of the evil bitches. For me.”

 

There is so much hurt in his tone, it makes the angel ache. Still, somewhere underneath it there might also be some of that exasperated fondness Dean sometimes expresses towards him. It's just wishful thinking though. Dean would never lie to himself just to make himself feel _better_. Maybe Castiel should have learned that from him.

_  
If only you believe in miracles, baby_

_So would I_

 

The angel looks to the ground. Suddenly, time seems to race and he has the strange sensation of his heart beating too fast, _hurting_ him.

“I thought you of all people would understand taking desperate measures.”

This time, Dean doesn't even answer him. Castiel can feel the human slipping from his grasp and takes a step forward, trying to force Dean to meet his eyes.

“I meant what I said. I'm doing this for you. You _have_ to believe me.”

 

_I might have to move heaven and earth to prove_

_It to you, baby_

 

At this, Dean suddenly lurches to his feet, his eyes wet and angry.

“How can you say that? You can't – you can't do all _this,_ behind our backs, and then come and lay it all on me! It's – _you don't know what you're saying!_ This is – it's too big, Cas. You can't say you're doing all this for _me_ , it's too big, it's just not possible.”

 

And it's obvious, Dean is about to turn around, to _run_ , and is that not just pathetic, as pathetic as he, Castiel, hiding and lying in the shadows. So he grabs for Dean, this fragile, powerless, stubborn human and forces him around again with effortless anger.

 

“So what more am I supposed to do for you?! Or _not do_?! Is that it?! Tell me, Dean Winchester, what is it I have to do to make you understand that -”

_'That I'm doing this because I believe I can keep you safe.'_ The words sound like a cry in his head. They stay unsaid.

 

Dean finally looks him in the eye then and what Castiel sees there makes him stop once again.

Dean is scared. Scared that what the angel says might actually be true.

For a moment, Castiel is just as terrified as Dean is at what they might do if they ever acknowledged what they both know.

 

Dean takes a choked breath and Castiel suddenly remembers the decision he'd made earlier. It feels even heavier with the burden of what he's discovered, but that won't matter.

It is decided.

It's selfish, so _selfish_ , but this one night, they will believe.“I'm sorry, Dean.”

 

A confused look crosses over Dean's face, but just when he's about to open his mouth, the angel lets his hand slide from Dean's shoulder to where he knows the handprint is underneath his shirt – he feels it even through the fabric, the burn and the pull – leans forward and presses his lips against Dean's.

 

_So we're making love and you feel the power_

_And I feel the power_

 

Castiel is hesitant and yet hungry, the feelings and sensations overwhelming him are almost too much to handle. But Dean is holding on to him for dear life, drinking in the deep, open-mouthed kisses while keeping a death-grip on the angel's hand where it's resting against his face.

When Castiel finally pulls back, Dean has his eyes closed, a pained look on his face. He's breathing hard and swallowing profusely.

The angel studies him while keeping his grip on the human tight and battling himself for control. Time is racing again.

_'Not yet,'_ he thinks, pleads.

 

“Tell me that this is not real. Tell me I don't know what I'm saying. _Tell me this is not powerful_.”

Dean still doesn't open his eyes, but neither does he turn away, instead he presses the angel's hand more closely against the side of his cheek.

In that moment, Castiel feels so strong, so confident.

 

 

_Then there's really nothing we can't do_

_If we wanted to, baby_

 

And at the same time, it makes him wish more fiercely than ever that he could turn all this all around, stop this vicious circle and be free. Free them all.

 

_We could exist on the stars_

_It'd be so easy_

 

He knows it's dangerous. But what he'll gain will be worth it. This time, he will keep them save, all of them. It's why he was brought back. Why he's here, now.

_  
All we gotta do_

_Is get a little faith in you_

 

If only he could make Dean believe it were possible.

Have him see the wisdom in it.

 

_Oh, I've been (to) so many places_

_I've seen some things_

 

And he's kissing Dean again, walking him backwards. Dean moans into his mouth as his back hits the wall and his eyes are still closed. For a brief second, the angel wonders whether Dean somehow knows what Castiel is planning, knows why he's doing this. Whether that's why it seems to pain him to look at the angel, why he's being so willing, so pliant. So tense, so desperate.

Why the angel's touch seems to hurt him and why he holds on to Castiel so tightly whether it be despite or because of it, and draws him in so closely.

 

_Nothing ever breaks up the heart_

_Only tears give you away_

 

But Castiel will never know. And it's not like he had any illusions about this, about who they both are.

Raised from perdition.

 

_Then you're right where I found ya_

_With my arms around ya_

 

His hand grips ever more tightly over where the handprint is, feeling the bond between them pulse and stretch with it; pleasure, fire and pain all mixed together.

It all seems to go back to this one moment, when he first laid a hand on Dean's soul.

Back then, it had all seemed so easy, so clear, so _glorious_ , when he could still let himself believe in the righteousness of it all.

 

_I had a taste of the real world_

 

Still, he doesn't want to go back to before, _before Dean_. Thinking about it makes him feel empty. __  
  
You ripple like a river when I touch you

 

Dean is trembling against him, making tiny, choking noises in his throat. So Castiel breaks the kiss, stroking soothingly against what he can reach of Dean's cheek without breaking the death-grip the human still has on his right hand.

“Open your eyes, Dean.”

He says it softly and yet it's clearly a command.

He has to know.

But the human turns his head away to the side, jaw tense.

“Dean – ”

“No! You don't get to disappear like that, I'm sick of it. I waited too long. So many nights already I wake up and – not this time.”

_  
I picked up your vibes_

_You know it opened my eyes  
_

And Castiel fully intends to repeat his command, to find out if this worked, if Dean now, _finally_ , believes in him, in his intentions, now that he laid everything bare, that he's proved his feelings are real.

_Real._

But then, the words get struck in his throat and a cold realization begins to dawn on him.

 

_But I'm still dreamin' yeah_

 

Dean doesn't believe him. Doesn't even believe in _this_.

Because somehow, Dean has convinced himself that all this is just another dream.

It's like he actually doesn't want to know what's true.

Still, Castiel has to ask:

“Dean... where do you think you are right now?”

 

_And you're right where I found ya_

_With my arms around ya_

 

Dean scoffs at that and finally opens his eyes, though not to look at the angel. Instead, his gaze is lost somewhere off to Castiel's side, wandering around kind of aimlessly.

“Right where you left me I guess? On the couch, in the dark, somewhere, what does it matter...”

_'What does it matter,'_ it echoes in his head.

Castiel pulls away from him then, shocked and angry. At that, Dean lifts his gaze at last to study him, brows furrowed in a mixture of concern and confusion. Sudden doubt makes him tense up and he takes a step towards the retreating angel.

“Wait, what – what is the meaning of this? Wait, is this actually – ”

“It doesn't matter.”

 

Castiel stands unmoving but his unblinking, hard stare freezes the human in his forward movement.

It hurts him, the confusion and panic in Dean's eyes, but the cold, bitter discovery he's just made overpowers the feeling.

This was all pointless.

Neither force nor truth will ever make Dean see the way he feels. See him.

“If you rather believe the lie, so be it.”

 

And just as the human opens his mouth to argue, the angel reaches up and touches his temple.

Instantly, Dean crumbles at his feet.

He puts him back on the couch. Then, he stands at the windows, in the dark, for one, endless, last moment.

 

And then, just before he takes off, it briefly crosses his mind that maybe, it's better this way.

The boundaries, the past and the now, clearly cut away from each other.

After all, if he hadn't taken Dean's memories of this night away just now, if they had really discovered their faith in each other again, who knew what it would have led them to believe.

 

_If only you believe in miracles, baby_

_We'd get by_

 

 


End file.
